


The Secrets of Spider Silk

by lttledcve, spinncr



Series: Valar Dohaeris [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 11:53:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,099
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20209300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lttledcve/pseuds/lttledcve, https://archiveofourown.org/users/spinncr/pseuds/spinncr
Summary: "We have been gifted a rare opportunity to try again, and avoid the mistakes of our past. To avoid the consequences wrought in that great game, as you say, my Lady. Ser Jaime has corrected many of his own mistakes, and I would hazard a guess to say that you, Lady Sansa, are working toward correcting a few of your own. I too, have no intentions to repeating my mistakes of old.”***In which there is a plot twist.





	The Secrets of Spider Silk

** _v a r y s:_ **

The Spider is not a man fond of magic, or mysticism. Perhaps it’s the wide-ranging influence it can wreak. Whether by physical manifestation, or a more mental force, there is no denying the pull magic holds over this world. It casts a web much more enticing to smallfolk than his own, and when it’s the highborn caught under its thrall, magic has a tendency to be devastating. 

He wonders, then, what will be the consequences of the magic that sent him back here? More than that, what will be the consequences of the magic which sent  _ Sansa Stark and Jaime Lannister  _ back? A curious case, that. 

He’s known of Jaime Lannister’s return for years. It wasn’t difficult to spot. To the rest of the world, they no doubt saw a change of night and day in the infamous kingsguard. A man almost ostentatious in his irreverence, growing ever more so as the days ticked closer to his sister’s wedding. And then the day came and it was like the very life had been sucked out of him. Even his ability to wield a sword had been denied him. 

That was Varys’ first clue. 

By the second clue, he was sure. The Queen’s hysterics made sure  _ everyone  _ was aware of the discord between siblings, though even Varys was surprised by Ser Jaime’s lack of reaction to the entire affair. Cersei had come dangerously close to exposing the love affair Varys had been aware of even before Aerys had died. Though after that day, Varys was fairly certain there  _ was _ no love affair, at least not any longer. 

The changes began to stack up. The talent with left-handed swordplay, the hair cut short, more fitting of a soldier than the Golden Lion of Lannister. Then, of course, there was the missive sent to Oberyn Martell. 

Varys watched all these developments with pleasure, quietly impressed with the newfound mental fortitude of Jaime Lannister. He had always thought the man something of a tragic figure in their previous life, jaded to the world and vulnerable to only his family, when Varys supposes he might’ve been better served had it been the other way around. But now, he showed true promise. It’s true there were some mishaps in the beginning, but what he couldn’t achieve for himself, he taught his brother to do for him, a course of action which Varys knows has spared Tyrion much pain in this life. The two together have laid the groundwork for something incredibly powerful, perhaps more so than Jaime truly realizes. 

So Varys left him to it, rarely interfered but for to move pieces into place for Jaime and Tyrion to make use of or not as they would. Some pieces were used, many were not, but overall, Varys stayed uninvolved. When Jaime needed his help, Varys would offer it. 

Jaime needs his help now. 

He should’ve known it would be Sansa Stark, that wickedly clever thing. It is rare for Varys to be truly caught off-guard, and yet twice now, Sansa Stark has managed it. Her imparting of the knowledge of Jon Snow’s true heritage had changed the game immensely, albeit perhaps too late. It had been a masterstroke of manipulation, and yet, given time, he truly believes the realm would’ve been better for it, and for her rule in the North, in whatever capacity she would be allowed. He had mourned the loss of such a keen mind, aware that in this timeline, so much had changed that he couldn’t believe the same circumstances would possibly arrive to craft her back into the woman she became. Better for her, perhaps, but the realm would suffer for it. 

He needn’t have worried. 

Sansa Stark—Sansa Lannister? He had never been clear on the subject of who had taken whose name—is back, and she is already making waves in the capital. If he’d have come forward sooner, Varys might’ve advised Jaime to keep a lower profile, but after what he’d witnessed in the passageway, he knows any message would’ve gone unheard. He’d known they were truly in love in their last incarnation, of course—their marriage had been doomed from the start, and there were no motivating forces to inspire that union  _ but _ tragically misguided love—but seeing it is a very different thing. Sansa Stark, the Lady of Winterfell, had not been closed off, per se, but she was an expert at keeping both her thoughts and her emotions to herself. This Sansa seems equally skilled, but much less averse to hiding her pleasure where she takes it, unless it concerns Jaime. 

He might not have thought Jaime Lannister the man for the job that the powers that be have bestowed upon him, but he has done admirably thus far, and with Sansa at his side…

Varys feels a most uncomfortable sensation in his chest, a sensation appallingly akin to hope. 

He waits in the bowels of the Red Keep—fitting, he supposes, that the dragons are their only witnesses—for his colleagues to join him. Sansa was summoned with a note addressed to Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell, containing two simple words:  _ Valar Dohaeris.  _ Jaime was summoned with a note that, to Varys’ amusement and utter unrepentance, merely mimicked the Lady Sansa’s hand, and beckoned him to meet her there. 

He has a lantern but it remains unlit for now. No need to make it easier for curious eyes to spy them. 

** _S a n s a:_ **

The days pass in a less than eventful way after the tedious breakfast with Cersei, and are instead filled with a certain something that Sansa couldn’t ever previously associate with the Red Keep. Her sister rarely lets her out of her sight for too long, likely still remembering the awful night terrors that had grown worse in the days after their arrival south. The training seems to keep Arya more occupied, and provides the perfect amount of distraction from her thoughts of the Prince and what she may or may not be looking to do with some of her new weapons. 

Sansa joins in a bit more too, with these  _ sword lessons.  _ At first she tells herself it’s to appease Jaime, and then to shock Tyrion who has shown up more than once to see for himself. Usually halfway through she opts to sit with her good brother and talk, and is more than happy to give her sister the one on one time she seems to crave with the knight she’s grown to admire so much. 

Cersei isn’t avoidable forever, and the small conversations with childish smiles and shyness are  _ exhausting.  _ But they must have managed to distract her from whatever information she had been relying on at that breakfast which had been so clearly meant as a message to her twin. Joffrey isn’t avoidable either, and in fact grows a little more insistent on her attention. The lack of fawning over the Prince is starting to have its ramifications, and she’s running out of excuses. 

The tour of the Great Sept had been impossible to deny without causing a scene, and so Sansa had been forced to walk across the very steps where her version of Joffrey, who is not quite so different from the current Prince, had demanded her father’s head, with her arm grasped firmly in his. 

She’ll take the small purple fingerprints that litter her arm under the sleeve on her dress over the feel of the flat sides of the blades of the Kingsguard ordered to beat her, to strip her down. 

He is a boy pretending he is a man, and he has no true power over her.  _ Yet.  _

And Jaime. They’ve figured out small ways of communicating, of getting the other’s attention when they need to speak. It’s not perfect, and there’s never enough time. Their last meeting of any real length had been after Cersei’s threat with those damned birds, and a part of her longs for some reason to find a way to sneak back to the passageways, to get word for him to meet her there, but the reason doesn’t exist. Mere bruises and the discomfort of reliving memories of a past that they intend to never see come to pass in this life. 

When the letter arrives to her chambers, Sansa’s heart skips a beat. For a moment she imagines its from Jaime, and that something must be wrong for him to be bold enough to have a letter left but it’s not from him. 

_ Sansa Stark, Lady of Winterfell.  _

The title belongs to Catelyn Stark, her lady mother. No one but Jaime knows of her role, of the title she had been given by Jon as King in the North once they had gone for their home and took it back. 

The letter is two words, and while she’s not sure  _ who’s  _ written her this letter, she can make a few guesses. Either way, they have the same memories that she and her husband do. 

_ All men must serve.  _

It’s one of the two High Valyrian sayings she had heard the Dragon Queen’s supporters say. Perhaps it’s an ally reaching out, there would be no reason to send word otherwise. The element of surprise would prove more useful if it was an enemy waiting to attack. 

Though she’s not sure of the purpose of such an attack. The Targaryen Queen is still across the Narrow Sea, and is years away from both her ships and her dragons. 

Still, when Sansa later sneaks out of her chambers to find the sender she brings the dagger gifted to her by her husband just in case. 

“An interesting choice of words considering the call it answers,” she comments with a small trace of a smile when she sees the silhouette of the man in the shadows. She shouldn’t be surprised, a spider always  _ lurks. “All men must die _ , and yet we’re still here.” 

** _v a r y s:_ **

Varys’ lips quirk. Yes, Lady Sansa will be the glue that holds Westeros together, and Jaime Lannister shall be the glue that holds  _ her  _ together. He does believe he can work with this. “So we are. Perhaps the Braavosi are onto something. First we die, then we serve,” he quips. 

He is surprised by how  _ relieved _ he feels to speak of it out loud. Varys is a man who prides himself on his distance from the more visceral of emotions. He does not lust, for either men or women, nor has he felt rage in many, many years. His most overwhelming emotions are perhaps irritation and compassion, and the separation between himself and the objects of those feelings is easily maintained. He has mourned, but very rarely does he feel the loss of a particular individual. Rather, he mourns the loss of opportunities, of peacetime, of worthy men and women who died before their time, the innocent and uninvolved who needn’t have died at all. He does not feel loneliness, because he does not seek companionship, and yet, still there persists this  _ relief  _ in being able to discuss what happened to them. What happened to the  _ Realm.  _

“Unless you have evidence to the contrary,” he begins, for once speaking plainly. They do not have time to waste. “—I believe it is just the three of us who have returned. I can trace back most of the changes in this life’s trajectory to Jaime, though I have not verified this with him.” He pauses, and then in a move very uncharacteristic for himself, he reaches forward to squeeze her hand. “I must say I am  _ very _ glad it is the two of you with whom I share this endeavor. I will do my utmost to be of—” Varys pauses when he feels a prick against the back of his neck. 

“Ah. Perhaps I should’ve foreseen—”

“ _ Silence.  _ Has he threatened you, Sansa?”

** _S a n s a:_ **

Sansa isn’t quite sure what to make of the man standing in front of her. All of her interactions with him in her past life had been  _ minor _ , though he had risen from the gutters of King’s Landing to end up as one of the advisors of the Dragon Queen. “And who do you serve?” She asks, not because she doesn’t have an idea but because Sansa thinks she’d be much more comfortable hearing the words from his own mouth.

She had taken a gamble on telling Tyrion the truth, believing that the knowledge would be far too much weight for her former husband to bear alone. Sharing the news with someone like Varys...Well, perhaps if they had had more time there would have been a very different outcome. Although, it’s hard to know what happened after Cersei had managed to kill both herself and apparently her husband as well before her own death.

Had the Old Gods sent them back just to avoid some of the carnage? She doesn’t presume to know them, not really, but there must be some greater reason than just ensuring her own family’s happiness and safety.

Having Varys as an ally could help more than they have previously considered. Here, he mostly goes unnoticed and sees  _ everything _ . He has the same memories, and has more insight than anyone else that they’ve been on relying for help...

But can they trust him?

Sansa tilts her head to the side as she watches him carefully. He gives little away, except for things she reasonably already knows. It’s  _ smart _ , and she can appreciate waiting to know for certain before reaching out.

“No, I believe you’re right—” Sansa starts, her hand returning the squeeze kindly. No matter any differences in their past lives, he might be the best source of information, of insight, that they’ll have and they can’t afford to pass up the opportunity.

Only Varys trails off and doesn’t seem  _ too  _ surprised by her husband’s voice.

Sansa’s eyes flicker towards the figure over Varys shoulder and blows out a small breath. She shouldn’t be surprised either, not after how adamantly he had been when it came to making sure that she would be safe. If he’s not willing to sit back and ignore Cersei baiting him, she can’t imagine him being okay with a dangerous meeting in the shadows.

Though it begs the question of  _ how  _ he knew.

Blue eyes flash back to Varys as she considers.

“No, Jaime. He hasn’t.” Her hand still holds Varys’ and she gives it one last squeeze before dropping it. “We were just talking. Perhaps we can start over now that my lord husband has joined us."

She conveys just enough to hopefully but Jaime at ease, while warning him at the same time. 

** _j a i m e:_ **

It’s dark, near blinding in the blackness, but Jaime  _ knows _ that voice. His teeth grit, and despite how much he wants to, he keeps himself from rushing over. Sound travels in this cavernous underbelly, so he keeps his steps light and sure, and draws his dagger slowly. 

Sansa’s voice doesn’t sound overly threatened, but she doesn’t sound comfortable either. She’s using her  _ Lady of Winterfell  _ voice, and if  _ Varys  _ hadn’t already set him on edge, this would. He should’ve known something was off with the letter, but it hadn’t seemed terribly dissimilar to the few others they had managed to send between each other over the past few days. The location had been an interesting choice, but in truth, he’d merely wondered why he hadn’t thought of it sooner. It became a common enough meeting place as the civil wars in Westeros continued on, but as far as he can recall—and he had known quite a lot about the best places to go undisturbed in his last life—it hadn’t been so popular yet last time. They have grown comfortable. 

“ _ The Realm,  _ Lady Sansa. I have always and ever will serve only—"

Jaime jerks the eunuch and digs the tip of his dagger in a little more. “I said  _ silen—” _

It doesn’t register immediately what she has called him, and when it does, he falters. He wishes he could read her eyes because they could have an entire conversation in just a glance and have this all sorted in no time. He can barely even make out her silhouette though. With little other recourse, he drops his hold on Varys, and quickly steps around Varys to put himself between the two. 

“If you have a torch, light it.” He says shortly, and blinks as his sight returns to him. His free hand grabs Sansa, half out of reflex, and half in a dare to Varys to do  _ anything _ about it. Just one of his famed whispers and he’ll find his tongue has joined his stones in the seven hells. 

“What’s going on?” He asks. He asks Sansa specifically, but of course Varys takes the opportunity to speak. 

“Winter is coming, Ser Jaime. And we have been sent back to prepare for it.”

** _S a n s a:_ **

In truth, she’s not quite sure what to make of the knowledge yet. Sansa wants to think, she wants to get out of King’s Landing, which seems to affect her more than she’d like to admit. The Godswood. She’ll go there. It had always helped been quiet, people hadn’t bothered her much there in her first life, and she doubts anyone will in this. Her husband will know to find her there, and maybe her family.

What has changed now that Varys has decided to step out of the shadows? Or perhaps decided to drag them into them? If he had known Jaime was back as soon as possible, why not step forward  _ then _ and work together from the start? Eyeing him now, Sansa knows there must be some reason. Nothing in this damned city is ever without  _ reason  _ or logic, no matter who is justifying it or how twisted it might be.

And if Varys has his memories too, are there others? Sansa can’t think of anyone else she’s interacted with that seems off from what she remembers, but that’s not to say that it’s not possible that there are  _ more _ .

_ The Realm _ .

She’s not particularly sure she knows what that means apart from the fact that Varys’ goals will never full be aligned with her own.

The lone wolf dies but the pack survives.

Her back straightens just a bit, and Sansa doesn’t intervene. The torch blazes to life and she has to blink as her eyes adjust to the sudden light, but it does make things feel slightly less...ominous. Her hand squeezes Jaime’s out of instinct, silently reassuring him that all is well, though she can’t deny the immediate way his presence releases some of the tension in her shoulders, or how it suddenly feels like a little easier to breathe.

She blows out a slow breath—Sansa’s not quite sure she’ll ever be used to others echoing her house words as the warning that eventually comes to be—and turns to face Jaime.

“It appears we’re not alone, husband.” There’s a quick quirk of the corner of her mouth, just for him, before she looks towards Varys once again, this time with her arm looped with her husband’s. They are a united front in this, just as in everything. “The Master of Whisperers was just making himself known.”

There’s so many questions that Sansa wants to ask. What has he done to help? Has he helped Jaime? When did he wake up back in this life, as opposed to the last?

Was he there when Westeros faced the aftermath of the death of Cersei Lannister?

He speaks of winter, in his characteristically vague words. “To prepare for it,” she echoes slowly.  _ Is that all? _ There’s the chaos of the Long Night, the rush of the Last War and it’s not the former that gives Sansa pause. Succeeding against the Night King, winning the Battle of Winterfell, had been in the best interest of the Realm. There would have been no Realm left to worry about it.

But the Last War, the war between House Targaryen and House Lannister—

_ Tyrion told you, _ she surmises easily, without speaking the words aloud. It had been what she had hoped for at the time, part of the reason why she had chosen Tyrion to confide that to, but even in the depths of the underbelly of the Red Keep with the Master of Whisperers, she can’t speak the words aloud. Not with Jon in the capital, right under their noses, keeping a trained eye on her because their father had asked him to.

“And so we’ve been summoned. Why now, Lord Varys?”

** _j a i m e:_ **

He doesn’t like this, and yet, he remembers how Varys had helped him save Tyrion, remembers how Varys had pleaded with the Dragon Queen on behalf of the people of King’s Landing. 

_ I serve the realm.  _

Hadn’t Jaime made that choice once already? Twice actually, and he had sealed his fate both times. “We defeated the dead last time, Varys. The dead weren’t the problem, it was the  _ living _ that screwed us—”

“Winter comes in many forms, Ser Jaime. I would have us prepare for  _ all _ of them.” 

His hand stays tight on Sansa’s as he thinks over what that means. It was his sister that destroyed Westeros, truly, though she had plenty of help from the likes of Baelish and their father. But even with his sister gone, Daenerys Targaryen will still come for the throne. Will she be as mad in this life as she had been in the last? Is madness born or made? 

He doesn’t ask yet though. He doesn’t trust Varys. He trusts no one but Sansa. An ally would be a great boon, but not one he’ll accept blindly. And he is curious what Varys has to say. 

“The situation has changed, Lady Sansa.” Varys glances his way, and his eyes seem to twinkle. “I vowed to step in should Ser Jaime require assistance, but I was pleasantly surprised to find he did quite well on his own, with Lord Tyrion’s help, of course. And in such creative ways. I think you’ll find the changes you’ve wrought much more far-reaching than you can fathom at the moment, Ser Jaime. When I helped, I did so surreptitiously. I redirected attempts to spy on your conversations with your brother, I weeded out saboteurs sent to disrupt the treaty you organized... Small gestures that likely did not impact your success overly much in one way or the other, but merely added a cushion of reassurance, if you will.” He pauses, glancing at their joined hands. “Forgive me for saying, but with the addition of Lady Sansa into our midst, I had assumed that the pacing of such changes would somewhat… increase. You are both limited in your ability to communicate at this time. I offer you my services as a page and errand boy. Perhaps, in the future, should I gain your trust, I will have other skills which you may find pertinent.” 

It is more than Jaime can recall ever hearing the secretive Master of Whispers willingly share, and somewhat overwhelming. Between Tyrion and he, they had no way to control for spies or saboteurs. Tyrion’s own network of informants hadn’t been fully developed at that point. Jaime hadn’t even  _ thought _ that someone might try to stir trouble so early in the game, or in such a way, though perhaps he should have. And it’s true, as well, that Varys has so many resources out of their grasp currently. The man’s influence spans two continents, and his little birds fly everywhere. It’s help they can’t truly afford to refuse, and he suspects Varys knows it. 

Still, the idea of entrusting his communication with Sansa to this man...rankles. 

“Why should we trust you? You’d have us hand you everything you need to get me gutted by Lord Stark?” 

** _s a n s a:_ **

She can still feel the chill of the real winter that had come, not merely the slight cool air of the North compared to the hot summer sun in the South. Winter,  _ true _ winter, had come to Winterfell and would have come for the rest of Westeros had they not been able to defeat the Night King. Had Arya not defeated the Night King.

For as much as the North had come together with Daenerys’ forces, with those who had come North, such as Jaime, to fight for the living, they would have lost that battle had her sister not succeeded where no one else had been able to.

Now winter is synonymous with chaos, and Sansa is certain that’s exactly the sort of winter the Master of Whisperers means.

Her thumb strokes the back of Jaime’s hand idly as she considers, as her mind races to catch up with the information that they are not alone, and that Varys is willing to help them. For now. It’s always conditional, no matter how Varys presents it to them.

Sansa wants to talk it over with Jaime, she wants to see what he thinks, but there’s no time. Not when the opportunity has presented itself, and they must make some kind of determination. Information is being offered, help as well, but nothing ever comes without a price. These things are needed in order to protect the realm, and that is their security blanket...until one day in Varys’ eyes they are not.

_ The situation has changed. _

Simply because she is back, or because she and Jaime are back together in King’s Landing? Sansa assumes it’s the latter. In their former lives, this was where everything had begun. The murder of Jon Arryn, and the subsequent arrival of the Starks in King’s Landing just prior to Joffrey taking her father’s head instead of allowing him to take the black. The fracturing of the Seven Kingdoms, the War of Five Kings...They’ve already started swapping chess pieces in an effort to avoid some of the damage. But there are still two truths that are hard to reconcile with.

An independent North is the best way to protect her people, her father’s people.

The fracturing of the Seven Kingdoms, the Last War, is inevitable with Cersei Lannister in control of any form of power.

Pride in her husband is immediate as Varys recounts his many accomplishments and Sansa turns to tilt her head upwards to give her husband a small private smile.  _ I believe in you. I’ll always believe in you. _

“I have plans, if that’s your question, Lord Varys.”

There’s no sense in denying it. He clearly is already aware of the fact, and they gain nothing by lying to him when he has also endangered himself by coming to them, by allowing the opportunity for himself to be seen with them. Though, if her suspicions are right, the Spider has done everything in his power—which is more vast than she’s willing to admit—to ensure their anonymity.

It’s an intriguing offer, and one that makes sense if they can afford to put that much trust in him.

What other choice do they have? His reach is great, great enough to alert them to the effects of the changes they make, which will help them anticipate and adjust before the next move must be made, or the next deal is struck.

At least the alliance will be mutually beneficial. Sansa feels no sense of comfort by being in the Master’s debt. And that is why she answers Jaime’s question herself. Best to make their positions clear from the start. 

“Because having you gutted isn’t in the  ** _current_ ** best interest of the Realm, husband.” It’s matter of fact, and Sansa turns to appraise Varys once again, a sort of coolness in her features when she speaks next. “And because Lord Varys is quite aware that there are consequences when lords play the great game.”

It’s not so much a threat as it is a reminder. She may be a girl of ten and three appearance-wise, but she is Sansa Stark of Winterfell, she will protect her family until her dying breath, and she will use every skill she’s ever learned in order to do so.

“ _ If _ we were to need you, Lord Varys, how would we get word to you?”

** _v a r y s:_ **

His eyes twinkle in reaction to the Lady Sansa’s words. It is so nice to not be the only rational mind who sees the value in  _ plans.  _ “I have no doubt you do, Lady Stark. In fact, I was rather counting on it. Perhaps one day you will see fit to share them with me, perhaps not. Either way, I believe I have as much a vested interest in seeing them through as you do, if our motivations are at all what I believe them to be.” 

It is quite a lot to put out in the open, and the last time he took such a gamble, well. 

It won’t be a problem this time around. He has ensured it.

“Quite so. It would do me no good to have you  _ gutted _ , as you say. I also have no reason to blackmail you, extort you, or carry out any other manner of unseemly acts against you. We have been gifted a rare opportunity to try again, and avoid the mistakes of our past. To avoid the consequences wrought in that  _ great game _ , as you say, my Lady. Ser Jaime has corrected many of his own mistakes, and I would hazard a guess to say that you, Lady Sansa, are working toward correcting a few of your own. I too, have no intentions to repeating my mistakes of old.” 

Unfortunately, he arrived just too late to correct one of his earlier, but most unfortunate mistakes. He thinks it the arrogance of youth, perhaps, that guided his actions with Aerys, the Mad King, and oh, how the realm had suffered for it. In the interim, he has come to terms with the cost of his choices, but not without regret. The rest of his past mistakes will not be so easily accepted in this life, however. 

He had thought very long and hard about eliminating Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, as he had tried to do in the last. It proved to pose a philosophical quandary which he has yet to solve. If he changed the course of her life, as he already has done so, and drastically at that, will the same madness take root in her? If he had found a way to raise her from infancy himself, could he coax the madness out of her system, the way a maester coaxed infection from a wound? He cannot say. He can admit, with no little amount of shame, that he hadn’t made the necessary accommodations to take charge of the girl himself before she had reached her maturity, and it was a decision decided entirely on his unwillingness to face the child that would grow to be his murderer. As of now, she remains on course with her last life, as far as he is aware. She cannot be allowed to see that course to fruition though, for all that he still wonders at his ability to nurture the madness out of her. He’s not yet sure if it’s a risk he’s willing to take, and time is running out. 

He glances at Sansa, nods his head demurely, but knows they will have his partnership. He is too useful a resource to overlook. “Ah yes. Simply light a candle in a window of your chambers, I will receive notice. You will receive word discreetly in reply.” 

** _S a n s a:_ **

And she does have plans, more than she had previously. Her husband had been right while whispering that there was still much to do in King’s Landing before they could leave, and she has every intention of starting the process so that they can get to where they need to be, so they can be safe and out of this city that had taken so much from them. “Mayhaps I will, my Lord.”

It’s a door she won’t close just yet. Sharing anything is a risk, especially with Varys. The information he has about their past lives, with the connections he has in this life is more than enough to garner enough power to make changes.

He may even know more than the both of them, depending on how long he survived after their deaths.

It’s hardly cold where they are, but Sansa shivers and steps closer to Jaime. It’s being in this place, partly, but it’s different somehow too. She knows Varys had seen what had happened to her, what her perceived ‘treachery’ against the Dragon Queen warranted in the Targaryen rule of law, and she can’t even begin to imagine what price he must have paid, being the recipient of her knowledge and how he chose to act with it.

It’s neither the time nor place for such a conversation.

“I have more in mind than correcting my mistakes, Lord Varys,” Sansa speaks evenly. She intends to save those who can be saved, to set up the best scenario of the war against the dead, and hopefully avoid the Last War if at all possible. She doesn’t know how they can reach across the Narrow Sea to either prevent the Targaryen madness from corrupting Daenerys, or prevent the Queen’s passage all together but...They will need her dragons. To think they can survive the Night King and his army of the dead without them is the thought of a fool.

Arya may have killed the Night King, but they had needed to draw him out for him to even get to a point where he could be so vulnerable.

She laces her fingers with that of her husband’s as she watches. They will use what he offers, that much she knows, when the timing is right. It’s an opportunity not to be squandered, especially while there is so much to be gained. So, Sansa merely nods her head in reply with a polite smile. “Then I shall look forward to hearing from you, my lord.”

She turns to her husband to see if there’s a way they can coax just a little more time, just a few more stolen moments before they have to return, when her next thought gives her pause.

“Lord Varys? What happened  _ that day _ , after we were both gone?”

They must know what they are truly up against. 

** _j a i m e:_ **

He doesn’t speak while they talk. He’s done his part, and will do so again if Varys so much as moves the wrong way. His dagger is still at the ready. The way they talk though, planning years ahead, and speaking in coy half-formed thoughts and vague implications about  _ mistakes  _ and  _ consequences…  _ it’s terrifying and awe-inspiring all at once. They’re doing this. They’re going to rewrite history, and the two people in front of him will pull every string there is to pull in order to do it. The wars to come had cost them their lives last time, and destroyed the entire continent in one way or another. And now he has even more to lose. 

He desperately wants to know Sansa’s plans, wants to tell her some of his own. He wants to know what Varys is angling for in all of this, and what his vision is for the future, though he doubts Varys will see fit to share that with them. 

He squeezes Sansa’s hand as she laces their fingers together, delighting in the way that Varys’ eyes track the moment. He knows Varys doesn’t see the lecherous Kingslayer preying on a young woman, and though he doesn’t like and certainly doesn’t trust Varys, there is something incredibly satisfying in knowing that Varys sees them for who they  _ are.  _ No matter who he is, Jaime has realized since Sansa has returned to him, to be seen, to be  _ acknowledged  _ is a powerful thing. 

But Jaime sees Varys too, at least better than everyone else in King’s Landing, excepting his wife, and he sees the haunted look in Varys’ eyes when Sansa asks that question. Varys’ gaze then turns to the chamber they stand in, taking his time. His eyes rest on the skull of Balerion the Black Dread and only then does Varys look at the ground. Jaime feels his hair raise. 

“Fire and Blood, Lady Stark. Fire and Blood.”

**Author's Note:**

> SURPRISE! 
> 
> I have been waiting to post this since the very beginning. Yes, valar dohaeris indeed!
> 
> Just to clarify, you may have noticed our time line is a little different. We will learn more about Sansa and Jaime's deaths soon, but Varys was not executed until _after_ the burning of King's Landing. We'll just say Dany wanted him to see what he had wrought, because, obvs, it's not her fault, it's everyone else's. 
> 
> With this section posted, the pace of our story will dramatically increase! That being said, the pace of our postings will return to roughly once a week, depending on how patient spinncr can be xD 
> 
> Comments give us life <3


End file.
